


Troubling Times

by The_Winter_Straw



Series: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, POV Second Person, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Sexual Situations, Super powered reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 22:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: You can teach an old dog new tricks, but only with a lot of effort.





	1. How It Happened

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise, bitch, I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me and my outdated memes!
> 
> Before I finished the actual challenge part of this work, I was approached by several people asking me for more. I wasn't much interested at first. Then _Endgame_ came out and I was so frustrated by the way it concluded several characters' stories that I decided that I _would_ write more out of sheer pettiness. 
> 
> Don't worry. I won't be covering the same kinds of pregnancies as before. It's all new, baby! We're starting with Bucky, then moving on to Natasha, Peter (Parker), and Thor. The latter three were easy. While I was looking for a fourth to round it out, I remembered the idea I got from one MRS.BTS on Quotev, so here's a shout out to them for gifting me with this plot bunny.
> 
> On y va!

Living in Avengers Tower never guaranteed anybody a good night’s sleep. Even on those early mornings that the blare of the emergency siren did _not_ rend the dark, something else typically would. Anything from Tony’s needless messages from JARVIS to the occasional Hulk out could wake you up without a moment’s notice. You’d slept better _before_ you moved in. Then there were the nights when what woke you up was more welcome than any dreams you might have managed to catch instead. _Those_ were the nights that made everything worth it. 

When you felt someone sit down beside you on the mattress, all you did was mumble something about not being on duty just then. Whoever it was did not take that for an answer. They gave your shoulder a soft nudge before bending closer to your head to whisper your name. Only one voice could get your eyes to open as fast as they did, and that was the one that belonged to Bucky Barnes. 

Your husband didn’t move an inch as you sat up to get a better look at him. The numbers on the clock on the empty side of the bed— _his_ empty side of the bed—appeared blurry through your glazed eyes, but you thought it must have been around three in the morning. You didn’t think to care. It had been so long since you’d last seen Bucky that all you _could_ think to do was stare at him. Travel and battle stained his clothes, and his long hair half-fell out of its usual bun. Finally, you figured out you ought to say something. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey yourself.” One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “I see you didn’t have a welcome party waiting for me.” 

“Tony didn’t say you guys were headed home yet.” 

“We didn’t tell him either.” 

“Then you can hardly complain that I wasn’t prepared for your arrival.” 

He let out a soft snort. The ghost of a smile that had remained on his face faded away, and you knew what was coming next. It was your turn to sit still. You took a second to close your eyes before freezing in place. Then, as usual, the warm, gentle fingers of his flesh hand brushed against your cheeks. They moved smoothly across your eyebrows, your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. Every contour of your face tingled as he traced it. At last the pad of his thumb touched your lower lip, where it lingered until you opened your eyes again. 

“I missed you,” Bucky breathed when your eyes met. You didn’t get a chance to reply. He replaced his thumb with his own mouth at once. His kiss was the signal that all was well. It was the same every time he came home from a long assignment: before any real discussion could take place, he had to make sure that you were real. Once he knew for certain that you were neither a triggered hallucination nor a HYDRA agent wearing his wife’s face, the walls came down. You were surprised that he’d accepted you so quickly this time. Given just what he’d been up to for the past month, it was a wonder he didn’t want to go crash upstairs on Thor’s floor for a little while. 

“I missed you, too,” you said after he’d finished. Your head spun a little; he _did_ have increased lung capacity, after all. Were you going to complain after four weeks without him being around to kiss you? Absolutely not. 

Bucky clearly felt that he’d done what he came there to do once that was finished, though. He straightened and walked right over to the entrance to the bathroom. You didn’t lay back down, but instead shifted in the bed to watch him go. He knew you were watching, too. That much was made plain by the slow, purposeful way he peeled off his dark blue coat. After checking to make sure that your eyes remained glued to him—where else would they go?—he removed his shirt in similar fashion. 

“Did you learn anything of interest while you guys were systematically blowing up Russia?” you asked as he moved back toward you. 

His answering scowl was not so deep that you thought it genuine. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Oh?” You feigned surprise. By then, he stood above you with his metal arm gleaming vaguely in the light coming in from the neon “A” glowing just outside the windows. “Then what _do_ you want to talk about?” 

“My wife. And how I haven’t seen her for twenty-two days.” 

“You counted?” 

“Of course I did. It irritated Steve.” 

“Well, as long as it was in the service of annoying _Steve_ , I guess it wasn’t a sappy thing to do.” 

“I’m glad you understand.” 

“I’m a very understanding person. I—” 

Another kiss cut you off. As Bucky slipped his tongue between your lips, you entwined your fingers behind his neck. He didn’t have to stop kissing you even when he pulled the sheets off you and lifted you into the air. 

“Bucky,” you broke away to laugh, “where are we going?” 

“You know _exactly_ where we’re going.” 

He wasn’t wrong; this bit, too, was a traditional part of Bucky coming home. Yet when he spun you toward where the shower lay, you finally got a good look at the clock. 

“It’s nearly four in the morning!” you protested before he could get you very far. 

Bucky looked down at you again. “Twenty-two days, [Name].” 

“I know.” 

“Twenty-two days,” he repeated. “Twenty-two days of no one to talk to but Steve and Sam while we dug through HYDRA bases trying to unbury my past. And as much as I like those two, I’d much prefer to see _you_ naked.” 

Saying _that_ part wasn’t necessary. Twenty-two days was a long time for you to be away from him as well. Without those three men around, you’d hardly had anyone to talk to at all outside of JARVIS. You doubted you could have gone back to sleep anyway, knowing your husband was in another room only a few feet away. At last you cracked a smile, then took the initiative by pressing a quick kiss his mouth yourself. 

“Okay, but you’ll have to put me down. It’s hard to admire your chest from this angle,” you said. 

He let out an exaggerated sigh, but put you back on your feet. “Better?” 

“Mm-hm.” You ran your fingers up his abdomen, but he quickly caught them in his flesh hand. 

“Hey. No fair. It’s my turn.” 

“ _You’re_ the one that took your shirt off first,” you said, pouting. 

“Luckily not a situation I can’t easily fix,” he said with a smirk. Your reply was lost in a gasp as he slipped his metal hand right up your pajama top. Bucky didn’t give you much time to enjoy that sensation either. He’d put you down close enough to a wall that pushing you up against it only took about half a second. 

The resulting tangle of limbs did not prevent him from as easily removing your clothes as he had claimed. His belt and trousers and all the rest soon joined the growing pile of fabric on the floor. You couldn’t get enough of touching him, and Bucky seemed to feel the same way about you. 

The two of you _did_ eventually get around to that shower. There were just a few other places in the bedroom you needed to cover first. By the time you stepped into the water after Bucky, you were just as badly in need of cleaning as he was. Your reunion celebration didn’t stop there, though. Absence, it turned out, didn’t only make the _heart_ grow fonder.


	2. Finding Out

Of course, after that night Bucky didn’t go off on any long, foreign assignments. He stayed close to home and never left you for more than a few hours at a time. Such a development normally would have thrilled you. You _liked_ working alongside him. The trouble was that this time you had an important task to carry out that you couldn’t do if there was even the slightest chance he might walk in on you taking care of it. 

Five weeks had passed since his return from Russia and already time was running out. What started as only suspicion on your part turned into more than that after you spent much of the morning vomiting into the toilet. Only now that it was 9:30 did you feel well enough to sit out in the kitchen and _look_ at the dry toast your husband had made you. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right alone?” he asked as he leaned over the counter to move a lock of hair stuck to your damp forehead. 

“Yes, Bucky. I’m sure. Go on. Promise I’ll still be alive and kicking when you get back from your appointment,” you answered. 

He didn’t move. “Eat some toast.” 

“But—” 

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’ve got something in your stomach.” 

When he crossed his arms over his chest like that, you knew he meant business. Your insides roiled at the thought of so much as touching your breakfast, but what choice did you have? Just so Bucky knew you weren’t at all pleased with his ultimatum, you locked eyes with him as you nibbled as little as possible from a single corner of a bread slice. Then you lifted your eyebrows as though to say _better_? 

“I don’t know. Maybe I should take you to see a doctor,” he said doubtfully. 

“For God’s sake, Bucky, go to therapy!” You already felt like those crumbs might come right back up. If he saw that, he’d never leave. “I probably just ate something bad out of that takeout we had for dinner last night. You’ve been waiting for this appointment for days. _Go_.” 

Just to further ease his mind, you crammed half the remaining piece of toast into your mouth. You regretted doing so immediately. It seemed to do the trick, though, as he finally smiled before he came over to kiss your cheek. 

“Okay. But if you feel worse at all, you have to call me.” 

“ _Or_ I could tell JARVIS to tell someone who isn’t in the middle of a psychiatry session.” 

“No, you’ll call me,” he said seriously. His eyes roved across your face. One last kiss, and he was headed out the door. “Lay down. Drink lots of fluids. Don’t forget to—” 

Thankfully the door closed and cut off the rest of his incessant reminders. You knew his paranoia stemmed from all those years of trying to keep a very ill Steve alive, but for Heaven’s sake! There was nothing to worry about. At least, nothing in the realm of what Bucky _was_ worried about. 

Speaking of, you needed to move. His appointment would only last a couple of hours at most. You hopped off your stool with every intention of getting started—only to be interrupted by another heady wave of nausea. Once you’d relieved yourself of breakfast (and rinsed all its remains down the kitchen sink), you _finally_ had the chance to dig that pregnancy test out from where you’d hidden it earlier that week. Bucky was such a neat freak that it required a lot of burying to ensure he wouldn’t find it before you were ready. Not that you felt any more so then you did when bought the blasted thing than when you actually took it. 

It was positive. 

You sat on the toilet staring at the stick for what felt like ages. Your heart pounded wildly in your ears. The test was wrong. You couldn’t be pregnant. Could you? You grabbed your second test and took it, too. It said the exact same thing. Anxiety crept coldly up your spine. So you’d been right: all that throwing up was _not_ from food poisoning, but from morning sickness. Pregnant. You were _pregnant_. 

The tests were thrown unceremoniously into the garbage. Who cared if Bucky looked under the sink and found them now? He was going to find out sooner or later. What would happen then, you didn’t want to think about. He’d been doing so well for so long, and now his _wife_ was going to ruin all of his progress. 

You were out of the bathroom in a flash, out of your assigned floor and up the hundreds of stairs that led to someone else’s. Thank God your feet knew where they were going, because you were too frantic to care. The word _pregnant_ beat an endless tattoo against your skull. A familiar door appearing before you as if from thin air was all that brought your rush to a sudden halt. 

“Steve!” you shouted, banging on that door. “Steve, open up. I gotta talk to you. Come on, Steve!” 

No one came to let you in. Was he on a mission? Usually he took Sam and Natasha and Bucky on any he deemed important. Bucky hadn’t mentioned going anywhere but a few blocks down the street. A solo run on Steve’s part wasn’t entirely out of the question, though. You’d been a little too preoccupied to pay attention during his briefings lately. But if he wasn’t home, what were you going to do? 

While all these thoughts whirled through your mind, you kept on knocking. Solid metal hit your knuckle again and again—until suddenly, that metal disappeared and your bashed your hand right into something warm enough to be a person. 

“Can we…help you?” asked a female voice. 

You blinked and found two people standing in the now-open doorway: Steve and his longtime girlfriend, Sharon Carter. The latter’s hair looked unusually mussed and the former was definitely wearing his shirt backward. Heat crept up the back of your neck. That Steve might just be busy with his _own_ romantic affairs had not occurred to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said weakly. “I’ll be leaving now.” 

Two paces hadn’t taken you back to the stairs before Steve stopped you with a question: “[Name]. What’s the matter?” 

“You look really freaked out,” Sharon added. 

“Forget it. I didn’t mean to interrupt you guys,” you said, still backing away. “I just, uh…took a test today with some surprising results. Nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine.” 

They exchanged knowing looks. Then Steve stepped away from the door. “Maybe you should come inside.” 

While he slipped off to fix his clothes at Sharon’s insistence, she made tea. Steve was more of a coffee guy, so you knew her choice was more about you and what you’d just sort of revealed to them. Were you really so obvious? Apparently. 

“So,” Steve said once he returned and settled on the sofa next to Sharon, “why don’t you tell us a little more about this test.” 

Your hand shook so hard that you had to put down your untouched tea. Might as well bite the bullet since they already knew. Their knowing didn’t make your confession any easier. “I’m pregnant,” you said, before adding in a rush, “and I _know_ Bucky doesn’t want kids. We talked about it, but…” 

“Have you told him?” Sharon asked. 

You shook your head. “I just found out. He’s going to be so upset.” 

“Maybe he’ll be excited—” 

Steve cut her off by giving her knee a gentle squeeze. His grim expression didn’t ease any of your nerves. “Did Bucky tell you about the records we found in Russia?” 

“No. What were they?” 

“If he hasn’t told you, it’s not my place to say.” 

“Steve—” Sharon started. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” he told you, and he sounded it. “You’re going to have to tell him the truth.” 

You could see no other option yourself. Sneaking off and “taking care” of the problem yourself wasn’t your style, and if Bucky found out, he’d only be angrier at you for hiding something. A little bit rich, considering he was hiding something from _you_ , but a baby _was_ a little different than what was probably some further proof of the horrendous abuse he had suffered long before you even met. 

“Maybe Sharon’s right. Maybe Buck _will_ be excited,” Steve said. 

“You’re a crummy liar, Steve.” Dejected, you stood from the couch and headed back toward the door. Your full cup of tea stayed behind. Now that you had gotten over the adrenaline rush from your revelation, your stomach had returned to its previous state of nausea. 

“[Name],” Steve called, and you turned to see him gazing at you with typical earnesty. “You should tell him. He deserves to know, and he’d never hurt you.” 

“I know.” 

Bucky hurting _you_ was the farthest thing from your mind. Nor had you considered any chance of his hurting his unborn child. No, you hurting _Bucky_ was all that you could think about. You left Sharon and Steve with your heart sunk all the way to your toes. Whatever you’d hoped to gain from talking to him—hope, courage, enthusiasm, whatever—you had not received it. Now all that was left was to wait for your husband to come home, and _that_ was no cheerier a prospect than it had been before.


	3. How You Told Him

Okay, so you chickened out. A week later and you still hadn’t broke the news to Bucky. But it wasn’t _entirely_ your fault! He came home so calm and happy from therapy that you couldn’t bear to ruin his mood, and then one thing led to another, which led to another, which led to you out in the field with the rest of the team. The middle of a battle did not seem to be the proper place for your big reveal, no matter what Steve might have thought to the contrary. He’d made sure you got paired with him for the day, and had made his feelings clear the minute everyone else headed for their assigned stations. 

“Cap? [Name]?” Sam’s voice on the communicator in your ear interrupted the awkward silence that had fallen after Steve's most recent guilt trip. “I’ve got eyes on the prize. He’s coming in hot on your ten o’ clock.” 

“Roger that, Sam,” Steve said. 

“Got it!” you chimed in. 

Even without the warning, ignoring the Abomination’s approach would have been difficult. There was an awful lot of screaming and roaring coming from that direction, not to mention the sounds of Tony and Rhodey firing their repulsor beams at peak volume. Bucky was out there somewhere, too, away from the thick of things and ready with his sniper rifle if things became desperate. 

“Okay,” said Steve, “I’m going to go out there, get as many civilians out of the area as I can, try to corral him before he gets to another part of the city. You stay here.” 

His instructions stopped you mid-stride. “And do _what_?” you asked. 

“Nothing.” 

“Why?” 

A car whizzed straight your way. You instinctively lifted your force field, but there was no need to do so. Steve stepped in with his shield before the vehicle could get close enough to touch your protective bubble. Then he threw you a pointed look. 

“ _That’s_ why.” 

“I’ve handled bigger objects than cars.” 

“Not while you were pregnant.” 

“I’ve _been_ pregnant since before you let me come on this assignment!” 

“And I only let you come become I couldn’t say no without Bucky finding out why. I’m not about to let you go and get yourself or the baby hurt. Stay back. That’s an order.” 

You scowled. “I hate it when you go into leader mode.” 

“Thank you.” Only the smallest of smiles graced his features as he turned to race up the alley. “Think of it this way: with you and Bucky out of the action, now might be the perfect time to tell him the truth.” 

“That better not be an order!” you hurled after his retreating back. 

Steve didn’t reply, presumably because that was when a huge, fleshy monstrosity flung itself at some apartments to his left. Its huge fingers crushed holes into the bricks, making it easier for it to scale the building with far more grace than it looked like it deserved. Those living inside the apartments rushing out into the street probably made it a little difficult for Steve to concentrate on your pouting. 

You decided that he didn’t _really_ want you to tell Bucky that you were carrying his child, though. Not just _then_. Such news would only distract Bucky, and if you all needed him to make that kill shot… 

Wherever he was, he would be able to see you from his vantage point. He would know that Steve left you behind. It wasn’t likely that Bucky would guess _why_ that had happened, but you standing there doing nothing would rouse suspicion for sure. You did your best to look alert and prepared while you tried to think of _something_ you could pretend to do for the duration of the fight. 

“Man down! He got Tony!” Rhodey called over all channels. 

Gasping, you looked up at the bright blue sky. The Abomination remained on the roof of that building, swatting at Rhodey and Sam like they were no more than flies trying to nest in its hair—if it had had hair. A twinkle of gold and red swiftly plummeting toward the ground nearby had to be Tony. His entire system must have broken with the force of the blow, because it wouldn’t be long before he hit cement. 

You ran through the calculations as quickly as you could. Sam and Rhodey—your only remaining fliers—were preoccupied. One couldn’t leave without endangering the other. Steve was busy with evacuations. Bucky would be too far away to help, Bruce was sitting this one out, and Natasha and Clint weren’t even in the country. As Tony soared over your head, you knew that it was up to you to get to him before the Abomination found him defenseless. 

_“CRASH!”_

“I’m headed to Tony’s position,” you told everyone. 

“[Name], wait—” 

“It’s fine, Steve. He’s close. Just keep that thing off my tail.” 

“Easier said than done,” Sam said. “This guy’s as strong as he is ugly!” 

Wreckage strewed the streets as you ran up them in the direction you’d heard Tony make his impact. A few people called out to you as you passed, but you ignored them. Let them say you were rude on their blogs and fan pages. If Tony was trapped inside his suit, time was of the essence. You hated to think what the Abomination would do if it got ahold of him while JARVIS was unable to assist. 

A pair of armored legs appeared half-buried in rubble and the remains of a hot dog stand five blocks from where you started. Several onlookers with phones out scattered upon your approach. 

“Tony?” you called when the legs didn’t move. Your voice did not coerce them further. With panic thick in your throat, you shifted the broken ketchup bottles and bricks from his body. He remained motionless. “Tony? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

The voice that responded was so quiet that you stopped moving to strain your ears for more. Nothing came. A quick look around showed you that none of the group from before had come close enough again for you to hear them speak. You frowned, then leaned down toward Tony’s recently uncovered armored-head. 

“Hello?” you said uncertainly. 

“Yeah, hi. I’m okay. The unlocking mechanism is jammed, so I can’t get out. Nothing of me is broken. I don’t think.” 

The relief you felt surged out of you in a sigh before you lifted your hand to your communicator. “I’ve got him guys. He’s okay.” 

“For a given definition of ‘okay,’” Tony griped faintly. 

“If someone could—” 

“[Name]!” 

Bucky’s voice came across so panicked that you shot up at once. A tremendous pounding noise erupted behind you. When you turned, you saw the Abomination tearing straight in your direction. Vehicles and bicycles and food stands and lampposts flew everywhere. The thing's already grotesque features contorted further with rage. 

“Get out of the way!” Steve said through your ear piece. You could see him, a tiny figure in red, white, and blue, just on the Abomination’s heels. Rhodey and Sam were also in pursuit—but for all its bulk, the Abomination seemed to be gaining speed more easily than any of them. 

They were not going to make it in time. 

“Negative. It’s only me between him and Tony,” you said. 

“I’m taking the shot,” said Bucky. 

He didn’t get the chance. At that exact moment, the Abomination launched itself into the air. Its velocity increased tenfold. You could only _just_ get yourself into position before it landed with an earth-shattering _crunch_ right in front of you. 

“Come at me, ugly. I eat Hulks for breakfast.” 

It didn’t seem to think very highly of your quip. No sooner had the words come out of your mouth than did it slam both its fists right into your force field. Normally it took a few blows to max out your capabilities, but this thing was so strong that just the one made your head spin. Unfortunately, it wasn’t done. Another roar blasted against your eardrums before its fists swung up again. You braced for another hit, and it came. _Ow_. A third, a fourth, a fifth. You’d never endured more abuse. Your heels sank into the pavement. If you didn’t do something soon, all Steve was going to find upon his arrival was a greasy smear where you and your unborn child once stood. It took a lot of effort, but finally you grit your teeth, looked the Abomination straight in the eye, and said, “Buh-bye.” 

All that built up energy sent it flying the second you released it. In the blink of an eye, the Abomination—and everything else directly in front of you—got hurled away, at least a handful of blocks, you’d have guessed. Success on that front, not so much on the staying out of harm’s way. The effort of withstanding all those impacts was enough to leave you dead on your feet. Black spots bloomed across your vision. You managed to stay upright just long enough to see the rest of the team (sans Rhodey, who had broken off to apprehend the Abomination before it could recover) run up to you. 

_Then_ you collapsed. 

“[Name]?” said Bucky. 

“Are you okay?” asked Sam. 

It appeared that Tony’s plight had been forgotten in the light of your own. All three men appeared above you. Steve’s face was white with worry. 

“[Name], can you hear me?” he asked. 

You tried to answer. Really, you did. Your tongue was glued to the top of your mouth, though, and before you could do anything else to indicate your ears were still working, your eyes rolled up inside your head. Needless to say, this did not relieve Steve’s worries at all. 

“We need to get her and the baby back to the Tower, _now!_ ” 

“The _what_?” you heard Bucky say. 

_‘Dammit, Steve_ ,’ was your very last thought before you passed out for real.


	4. Early Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm new to Ao3, but outside of this website, I've been update one story and one collection every Thursday since fall of last year. I like to have a bit of a stockpile of chapters to post-this allows me to proofread a few times before I actually put something online-and due to things like a move, class, and the death of my nine-year-old goldfish, I am now caught up with my stockpile. As such, I'll be taking a bit of a hiatus from posting anything new for a few weeks. This will not effect my Monthly Fic Raffle, and I will continue to edit and post old stuff here to Ao3 on any day of the week that I feel inclined to. 
> 
> See you soon!

Every pore in your body throbbed when you came to the following morning. Light surged through a nearby wall of windows, which did absolutely nothing save for increase the already-thunderous pounding in your head. You only had time to note you were in the Tower’s medical area before your eyes snapped shut to keep out the glare. With a groan, you rolled away from all the sunlight and buried your face back into your pillow. 

A slight rustling sound soon caught your attention. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t take much to drill right into your sore skull. You pressed your eyelids tighter together. The noise didn’t stop. At last you were forced to open your eyes again just to find the source of all that racket. Fortunately, you didn’t have far to look: Tony Stark—sporting two of the most spectacular black eyes you’d ever seen—lay in the bed beside yours, and he had a bag of his favorite freeze-dried blueberries in his lap. Before you could ask him to kindly chew more quietly until you could see straight again, he smirked. 

“ _Somebody’s_ in trouble,” Tony sang. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked. 

His smirk widened as he motioned back toward the windows you'd just escaped. With a sinking heart, you rolled over again…and _this_ time you spotted your visitor. Bucky sat there in the chair pulled up next to your bed. His jaw was set in that way of his that you typically saw after he’d spent an hour trying to work through Tony’s instructions on how to use the entertainment system in your living room—but now all that frustration was directed at _you_. 

“A _baby_?” he demanded, before giving you any chance whatsoever to greet him. 

Crap. You hadn’t forgotten the events that had led to your stay in the hospital wing, but you’d hoped to have a bit more time before Bucky confronted you over them. Or, barring that, that you’d passed out before you thought you did and had _dreamed_ Steve spilling the beans. Neither reality came to pass. 

“I’m sorry,” you said flatly. 

“Sorry? You’re having a _baby_ , [Name]!” 

Either Steve had already told _everyone_ the news, or Tony was too interested in the fight to care what that fight was over. He just kept plowing steadily though his blueberries. Not a single eye was batted over the part where you were _pregnant_. 

Bucky got to his feet, his eyes blazing. You looked at him as steadily as you could when your head hurt as badly as it did. Apparently your Abomination-induced injuries were _not_ going to get your husband to pull any punches, and you had no intention of playing the pity card yourself. 

“You could have got yourself killed,” Bucky said. 

“I could have got myself killed even if I _wasn’t_ pregnant.” 

“That’s not the point!” 

“Then what _is_ the point, Buck?” you asked. You were painfully aware of the audience he seemed oblivious to. Guilt bubbled in the pit of your stomach, and had been pretty much none stop since you took that blasted test a few days ago. Did he _have_ to go and make it that much worse? 

Your question did seem to give him pause, though, if nothing else.. “I…I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know why you’re mad at me?” 

“No, I don’t know what to be _more_ mad about! That you’re pregnant, or that you’re pregnant and didn’t tell me, or that you’re pregnant and didn’t tell me and almost _died_.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Tony put in. “If she’d almost died, she’d be hooked up to a heart monitor. Which she’s not. That’s the little blip-blip thing we have to stick on Steve every time he exits the building, in case you’re curious.” 

“Shut up, Stark,” Bucky snapped. 

Tony only replied with a mocking “ _ooo_.” You, on the other hand, struggled to sit up straighter. Bucky very rarely lost his temper in front of anyone that wasn’t Steve or Natasha or you. He always thought someone might change their mind about letting him walk free if they thought he was at all more threatening than usual. Though he never _said_ so, you suspected a SHIELD cell like the one the Abomination had broken out of haunted his dreams more often than he liked to admit. If he was shouting at Tony, that meant Bucky was mad. _Really_ mad. 

“Bucky,” you started, “I’m so—” 

“How long?” he interrupted. 

“How long what?” 

“How long have you known you were pregnant?” 

You stared at him. There was a ragged edge to his voice that you didn’t understand. “A week. That’s all. I swear. 

“And you didn’t tell me.” 

“I was _going_ to.” 

“When? _After_ you went and _had_ the damn thing?” 

“I got scared, okay?” 

“Oh, but not so scared you couldn’t tell _Steve_.” 

“This has nothing to do with Steve.” 

“Not from where I’m standing. Christ, [Name],” he ran his metal fingers through his hair, “we _talked_ about this. How could you go and get _pregnant_?” 

_Now_ Bucky was starting to piss you off. Did he not realize that this behavior was _exactly_ why you’d been afraid to tell him in the first place? If _he_ could remember that pre-proposal talk about not having kids, _you_ sure could, and in vivid detail. His tone fired you right up; you sat so straight so suddenly that room around you spun. 

“Maybe it was the unprotected sex we had,” you spat, and were pleased to see him shoot Tony an embarrassed sort of look. “It takes two to tango, Bucky, so don’t you _dare_ try to lay this all on _me_.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” He had the grace to hang his head, but that wasn't enough for you. Not anymore. 

“Well, that’s what it looks like from where _I’m_ standing. And I’m not the only one keeping a secret. What did you guys find in Russia that’s got Steve so worried?” 

Any of the shame he'd shown a minute before vanished at once. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Then I guess this _baby_ is none of _your_ business.” 

“The two aren’t equal.” 

“How would I know, since you refuse to tell me?” 

Your eyes met. The clicking sound of the metal plates in his arm filled the room as Bucky fidgeted. Then, to your surprise, he ended your staring contest and stormed off toward the elevator. 

“Where are you going?” you shouted after him. 

He paused only long enough to hurl back, “I promised Steve I’d help him transport Blonski back to the Arctic! Seems like a good time to yell at him for telling you anything—and for knowing my wife was pregnant before _I_ did!” 

The lift doors closed. He disappeared from view. That didn’t stop you from glaring in that direction in the hopes that he would _feel_ your displeasure, though. Once several minutes had passed, you slowly allowed yourself to unwind. Only when Tony spoke again did you remember you weren’t alone: 

“Not that it’s any of my business, but I feel that could have gone a hell of a lot better.” 

“Shut up, Tony,” you said, before turning over and shutting your eyes. Maybe if you fell asleep, you’d wake up and find everything since Bucky’s return had been some horrible dream. You didn’t want to consider what the next nine months would be like if it weren’t.


	5. Making Plans

About a week later, you found yourself once more in front of the nondescript metal door leading to Steve’s quarters. You’d been released from the medical wing only a few days before that. Most of your injuries were healed, and physically you were doing much better—at least, whenever you weren’t combating your terrible morning sickness, you were doing much better. The nausea seemed to have abated, thankfully, just in time for you to have dinner with Steve and Sharon. Throwing up all over someone’s feet wasn’t exactly the way you wanted your first (non-Tony) human interaction in seven days to go. 

Before anyone could arrive to let you inside for that human interaction, you heard the elevator behind you glide to a stop. You turned to greet whoever it was stepping out, and rapidly twisted away again the moment you saw who had joined you. All the blood drained from your face. Maybe, you thought desperately, if you pretended he wasn’t there, he’d just go away. 

“Hey,” said Bucky. 

Damn. There went _that_ plan, right down the toilet along with most of your meals. Your eyes darted in his direction before quickly returning to Steve’s front door. 

“Hello,” you replied frostily. 

If he took offense at your tone, Bucky didn’t say so. He simply stood there beside you, waiting for someone to open the door. Minutes passed. You stared so hard at the nothing in front of you that your eyes began to water. Where the hell was Steve? 

“Did you knock before I got here?” Bucky asked. 

“Shit.” 

No, of course you hadn’t. Bucky had shown up and distracted you. Before you could attempt to lie and save face, he lifted his metal hand, pounded it twice against the door, and eyed you with obvious amusement. You considered fleeing back to safety of your floor. That plan fell through just as quickly as the last one the second Sharon appeared. 

“Hey, you two,” she said, then her eyes fell on the Tupperware in your hands. “Oh, thank God. You both brought food.” 

For the first time since his arrival, Bucky and you looked right at each other. It wasn’t just you bringing sustenance along; he carried a foil-covered sheet pan easily with his flesh arm. Sharon swiftly relieved you of the salad you’d prepared, then led everyone inside. 

“Good news, Steve! Bucky and [Name] brought replacement food,” she called. 

“What?” Steve sounded disappointed as he exited the kitchen. “Come on, Buck. You didn’t even give me a chance.” 

Bucky just shot him a flat sort of look. “Did you or did you not burn your own sorry attempt at lasagna tonight, Rogers?” 

Instead of answering him, Steve turned to you. “You, too, [Name]?” 

“I’ve done enough vomiting lately without giving your cooking a chance,” you said. 

“At least you don’t live with him part-time. Most nights, I have to sneak out and raid the fridge in the common room,” Sharon said in a low voice. 

“Very funny. Hilarious, the lot of you. I’ll never get any better if I don’t practice.” 

“Then keep practicing, pal.” Bucky clapped a hand to Steve’s broad shoulder. “Just keep our stomachs out of it until you quit concocting poison.” 

“It’s not like I could kill _you_ with it.” 

“No, but the girls are more fragile than we are.” 

Sharon caught your eye, but let the comment pass. “How about we eat _now_ , before the stuff Bucky brought gets cold?” she suggested. 

A few minutes later, all four of you sat at the dining room table. Sharon and Steve sat next to each other on one side; you and Bucky sat across from them. The food was amazing. Bucky’s cooking always was, of course. You hadn’t tasted it since the night before that disastrous fight with the Abomination—or much of anything, due to your not-exactly-exclusive-to-morning sickness—and devoured his lasagna with perhaps more gusto than you should have in polite company. 

Your three companions remained too involved in their own conversation to notice your eating frenzy. Apparently Steve, Natasha, and Clint were leaving on some secret assignment in the next few days, and neither Bucky nor Sharon were pleased that the former wasn’t tagging along. Since you were not and had never been involved with SHIELD, you saw no point in inserting yourself into the argument. 

It was as you reached for your third helping of lasagna that the pleasant façade of normality came crashing down like a house of cards. 

“So, [Name],” Sharon said, scooping more salad onto her plate, “how’s the baby?” 

The silence that fell was deafening, or would have been, had the breach of this subject not caused you to inhale the bite of food you’d been in the middle of taking. You coughed haggardly, and felt something firm on your back: Bucky’s flesh hand. Just to get it off of you, you stood, then snatched up your glass of water and brought it to your mouth. Your face felt crimson by the time you’d drained the cup and sat back down. 

“I-I don’t know,” you choked out at last. 

Her brow crinkled with worry. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” 

“I mean—I mean…fine? I suppose.” 

“Have you been to see a doctor yet?” Steve asked. 

“No, but,” you were quick to add, “I’ve kind of been in the hospital since I found out.” 

“All the more reason for you to go, isn’t it? What if something happened to the baby?” 

“Who cares?” you muttered into your lap. 

“ _What_?” 

To your surprise, it was not Steve voicing horror at your callousness, nor was it Sharon. You looked up in some confusion, sure you’d imagined whose voice that was, but no. _Bucky_ gaped at you as though you’d grown a second (visible) head. 

“Who cares?” he repeated incredulously. 

You hadn’t really meant it. Of course you hadn’t. The minute you’d chosen _not_ to get rid of your baby before Bucky found out about it was the very same minute you’d decided—subconsciously or not—to keep it. A week in the medical bay without seeing your husband _once_ after his initial blowup over the idea hadn’t exactly warmed you to the idea of becoming a mother, though, nor to discussing the idea in front of that husband. 

“Oh, like _you_ care about the baby all of a sudden,” you snarled. 

“Of course I care!” 

“You didn’t a week ago.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“‘We _talked_ about this. How could you go and get _pregnant_?’” you said in a bad mockery of him. “Sound familiar?” 

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t care. I just—” 

“What, Bucky? Were you just hoping that Blonski had taken care of the problem _for_ us?” 

“I…I…” Faint color flooded his pale cheeks. All of a sudden, he couldn’t look you in the eye. Your gut twisted as though he’d thrust a knife into it long before he took a deep breath and muttered, “maybe.” 

“Buck,” you heard Steve begin, his tone pitying. That was all you let him say before you stood back up in a blaze of anger that had every eye in the room glued to you. A few rough gulps preceded your attempt to speak: 

“Thank you, Sharon, and you, Steve,” thank _God_ you voice remained emotionless, “for your invitation to dinner this evening, but I’m afraid that I’m not feeling up to it anymore. I have some serious matters regarding my marriage to consider tonight.” 

You spun around mechanically before any of them could stop you. None of them tried. Somehow, you managed to make it to the door without bursting into tears. 

“You should tell her,” Steve’s voice said as you left for the elevator. 

“Why?” Bucky demanded. 

“Because she’s your wife. And I know you still love her.” 

“All the more reason for you to _mind your own damn business_ , Steve.” 

Your hands trembled so hard that it was difficult for you to pull the door shut behind you quietly. They shook still when you pressed the button to call the elevator to Steve’s floor. _I’m not going to cry_ , you told yourself. _I’m not going to cry. Not here._

The elevator wasn’t a safe space, but it was safe _r_. You threw yourself inside it as soon as the doors slid open to allow you access. One knuckle was pressed to the corner of one of your eyes in an attempt to stem the tremendous pressure building behind it. That time, when you spoke, your voice was rough: 

“JARVIS?” 

“Yes, ma’am?” came the AI’s swift reply. 

“Take me to—take me—I want to go _home_ , plea—” 

“Wait!” 

A small gasp slid from your tight throat. Bucky had come out of Steve’s apartment and was headed right for you. Forgetting, in your panic, that this wasn’t a normal lift, you pounded the close door button with all of your might. They began to do so, but not at any increased pace. 

“Stop the lift, JARVIS!” Bucky shouted. 

“No, don’t!” you said. 

The doors were nearly shut. You _almost_ breathed a sigh of relief. Then a set of metal fingers thrust through the tiny remaining gap between them. No amount of button mashing could save you now. 

“I am sorry, Mrs. Barnes. He is exerting too much pressure on the system for the current operation to continue. I will have to let him through,” JARVIS said. 

“But—” 

There he was. Bucky stepped inside, looked up, and said, “thank you,” to the ceiling. While the doors closed behind him, he turned to you. 

“What do _you_ want?” you asked. He didn’t bat an eye at the fury in your voice. In fact, he looked _tired_ by it—which only served to make you _more_ furious in turn. 

“[Name], listen—” 

“No! You haven’t said one thing I want to hear since you found out about the baby.” 

“This is important—” 

“I don’t care!” 

“Would you just let me say—” 

“Ahem.” 

Someone nearby cleared their throat, but it wasn’t either of you. You jumped. Bucky didn’t. You both looked over at the doors. They’d opened again, without your notice and to an entirely different floor. Natasha and Clint stood outside, the former looking bored, the latter a little embarrassed to have overheard your quarrel. 

“Think we’ll just wait for the next lift,” Clint said. 

“Thanks,” said Bucky, hitting the close doors button once more. 

The interruption, though mortifying, did douse some of the fire in your belly. Maybe Bucky’s, too. Neither of you spoke again for the duration of your trip down to your floor of the tower. You bolted the moment you could. Bucky would _never_ physically restrain you, even in the middle of a fight like this—but he wouldn’t give up, either. He found you again a few minutes later. Unfortunately for him, you had by then ensconced yourself in the locked master bathroom. 

“[Name]…” he said through the door. 

“Go away!” 

A long pause followed. You knew better than to believe your husband had really left, however. Strain your ears as you might have to hear his receding footsteps, none came. Instead you heard him say, very quietly, “I will. I promise. Just let me apologize first. Please?” 

That sounded like a fair enough compromise to you. All the same, you pressed your back all the more firmly against the door. If Bucky wanted to apologize, he would have to do it _outside_ the bathroom—and he’d better hurry up, because you got the feeling all those cheese and noodles were about to exit your body. 

“I don’t want anything to happen to you. Or,” another pause, before he went on with some difficulty, “the baby.” 

You snorted. 

“I’m just worried, okay? You know what I said about HYDRA targeting any kids I might have. When we were all in Russia last month, we found files...confirming that.” 

“Confirming what?” you asked, despite yourself. You clapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late. Like it or not, you were participating in this conversation now. 

“This…isn’t the first kid I’ve fathered, [Name].” 

For a moment, your entire mind seemed to freeze. So many thoughts, so many questions, so many accusations flooded it at once that you couldn’t settle on just one. Not the first—but then—and Steve—did Bucky—! 

You had the door unlocked more quickly than you would have thought possible in your current harried state. The thing was, you hadn’t thought of anything to _say_ once you and Bucky could see each other. Your eyes met his. Inhaling, you prepared to start on your list of questions. Then he said in a rush: 

“Not on purpose. HYDRA wanted to see if they could breed more people like—like me. Another one of their experiments.” 

“Oh my God,” was all you could think to say. 

“None of the children lived past infancy. The files were heavily redacted, so we don’t know _how_ they died. Maybe HYDRA killed them. Maybe my serum can’t produce viable offspring. Tony’s working on decoding what we retrieved, but it’s slow going. There isn’t time to wait for confirmation. If you go through with this—” 

His babbling ground to a halt when you took his flesh hand in yours. 

“Everything will be _fine_ ,” you said soothingly. He looked ready to argue, so you went on, “This is happening, Bucky. We’re having a baby. HYDRA isn’t involved this time. No one is going to let anything happen to our child. Not you. Not me. Not Steve, or Sharon, or Tony, or Tasha. It’s going to be _okay_.” 

The stare he fixed you with was intense. You gazed calmly back, until, ever so slowly, he took your other hand in his metal one. 

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked. 

“This is happening, Bucky,” you repeated. 

He let out a long, shuddering breath, lowering his head onto your shoulder. You let him rest there while you stared blankly ahead for the second time that day. If only he had told you sooner. Would you have chosen any differently? Maybe not. All the same, you felt a growing sense that by keeping your baby, you might have chosen a much more dangerous route than you’d originally anticipated.


	6. Surprise!

A party thrown at Avengers Tower always truly turned into a party. Tony Stark couldn’t host a casual get together if he tried. Even gatherings that included _only_ current members of the team (that otherwise weren’t off on other assignments) had a bad habit of spilling over into barely-contained chaos. You gender reveal party was no exception to this rule. 

No one was drunk, at least. Since the mother-to-be _couldn’t_ drink, and the father-to-be wasn’t affected by alcohol at all, the entire common floor had been scrubbed of any and all liquor. Only snacks and sparkling drinks remained, all in various gaudy shakes of pink and blue to match the streamers, banners, napkins, and plates that decorated the space. 

Why was it, then, that everyone was still so _loud_? The games were over. There was nothing left to do but cut the cake. Yet it felt like all the laughter and talking was drilling into your head. Thor’s boisterous laugh in particular kept blasting out from the couch on which he was speaking with Bruce and Rhodey, and it was giving you a headache _worse_ than the one you’d endured after tossing the Abomination a record mile and a half away from yourself. 

“I’m not used to seeing people look hungover this early into one of my parties. Especially pregnant women I _know_ haven’t been drinking.” 

Groaning, you twisted away from the wall you were slumped against to answer Tony: “And _I’m_ not used to people finding my hiding places during parties.” 

“Who do you think you are?” he asked. “The Invisible Woman?” 

Your eyes traveled slowly across the room. Not _everyone_ had been able to attend. Steve, Natasha, and Clint were still off with SHIELD. How pathetic was it that _this_ small a crowd had driven you to pulling a chair up into a corner just to get away from it all? 

“Sometimes I wish,” you said. 

“Here.” 

“Huh?” 

To your surprise, Tony hadn’t wandered off to more exciting pastures—if one could call the little stand of jars for people to vote on what they thought your baby would be “exciting,” anyway. He instead shoved a bottle of uncolored, completely normal water in your direction, then pulled up a chair to sit beside you. 

“What’s this for?” 

“Pepper told me pregnant women need to stay hydrated. It’ll make you feel better. Usually helps _me_ when _I’ve_ got a bitch of a hangover, anyway.” 

Well, it couldn’t make you feel any worse, you figured. You cracked the bottle open and guzzled down about half of it before Tony spoke again: 

“So other than the _Perks of Being a Wallflower_ impression, how’s…” he shot the swell of your abdomen a pointed look, “…that?” 

“We wouldn’t be having this party if something happened to the baby. He—or she—is fine.” 

He sighed, slumping in his seat. “Thank God. If anything happened to your kid because you were trying to save my sorry ass…” 

“It wouldn’t have been because of you. _I_ was the one that insisted on going out there. Besides, if something _had_ happened, you’d have to fight Steve over who got to feel worse about it.” 

“Well, since Mr. Stars And Stripes _isn’t_ here, I win for today. Hey,” Tony added at the look on your face “Sharon should be in with the cake any minute. Then you and your boo can cut it, run off, and get a much-needed nap, all right?” 

You nodded wearily, gaze drifting over to Bucky at the mention of him. He stood immersed in a serious conversation with Sam across the room. It had to be serious because you could see that Sam was wearing his “therapy expression.” Before you could try to work out what the two were talking about, your husband caught your eye, smiled, and reached up to fidget with his bun—a nervous habit of his. 

Unfortunately, Bucky had recently chopped off his long hair—had to start looking like a real father, he claimed—and wound up just scratching the top of his head. Flushing, he turned his attention back to Sam, who, to his credit, didn’t react at all to the gaff. Sam _did_ glance at you, though, which was enough for you to decide to stare at your knees so he and Bucky wouldn’t feel like you were watching them. 

Some days, you thought Bucky was handling the idea of you having his baby well, might have been looking forward to it. He’d stopped avoiding you, and he’d quit flinching whenever he spotted the slowly growing swell of your stomach. That he had agreed to attend the gender reveal party was a major win for you. It had taken the combined efforts of Sam, Steve, _and_ Natasha (the latter two via a FaceTime call) to convince him to go along with you for the ultrasound to begin with. 

But he was also…different: cutting his hair, changing his clothes, waking up frequently in the middle of the night. His therapy sessions had been upped from once a month to twice a week. What you found most alarming was that you felt he was making sure not to touch you. Maybe that was all in your head, though. When you’d offered to join him for a therapy session so you could hash things out, Bucky declined, assuring you that you’d both done all the hashing required. And hadn’t he pulled you closer to him over the sink while you were both brushing your teeth that very morning? 

Tony nudged you on the shoulder. “If you’ll recall, what I said was that you could nap _after_ the cake arrives, not before.” 

You shook your head. “Tony?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Where are you on decrypting those files Bucky brought back from Russia?” 

He let out a long breath that caused you to look at him again. It wasn’t right to pressure him about the files. You knew that. Tony’s injuries had required him to stay much longer in the medical wing than you had—well, his injuries and his insistence on sneaking out to tinker all the time until Rhodey threatened to call Pepper—and even now he had a one foot in a boot and several unhealed lacerations on his face and arms. _Obviously_ he had more important things to attend to than trying to decode decades’ old HYDRA files. 

“Listen, [Name],” he said at last, “I’m going to level with you.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“No. I just don’t think we’re going to glean much more from these documents, even if JARVIS and I can find the information we need to start _reading_ them. Whoever redacted the files really didn’t want the information getting out. It’s like your hubby’s ‘book.’ We’ve probably stumbled into everything we need already.” 

You concentrated very hard on not shooting another look at Bucky. “But if this is like his book, we _need_ to find the files!” 

“Easy there. If you have a conniption, he’ll come over here, and I really don’t fancy going _back_ to the hospital so soon.” There was pause during which he waited to see if you would do as he asked. The threat of Bucky overhearing your inquiry into his business was enough to ensure your silence. “I didn’t say I was going to stop working on it. Just that I think we already know what we need to know.” 

“We _don’t_ know what happened to the mothers in this experiment,” you argued. 

“Sure we do. They died.” 

“Yeah. _How_ is what I’m worried about.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Yes, it does,” you said forcefully. “If I die during childbirth, Bucky is never going to forgive himself.” 

“You aren’t going to die during childbirth. I’m willing to bet most of those mothers didn’t, not unless they weren’t taken care of before the actual birthing process. My guess is HYDRA killed them all once they’d done their job. Poor girls were never meant to be anything more than incubators.” 

The tightness in your chest that had been growing steadily along with the size of your baby bump—so steadily you hardly noticed until that very moment—faded at Tony’s words. “But what if you’re wrong?” 

“What are Bruce and I? _Not_ the smartest scientists in the world? I’m offended you think so little of me.” Despite the offense, he smiled. “Nothing is going to happen to you, [Name]. I’ve seen Barnes’ work. _Not_ particularly interested in being on the receiving end.” 

At last you allowed yourself a relieved sigh. Telling these things to Bucky yourself wasn’t the same as someone else reassuring _you_ of them. Tony was right. No one here was going to let anything happen to you, Bucky, or your baby. 

“Thanks, Tony.” 

He winked. “Just don’t tell anyone I did you any favors. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” 

“Okay, here we go!” 

Sharon’s cheerful voice cut like a knife through the rest of the Avenger clamor. She made her way up to a waiting table with everyone else following in her wake. In her hands was a tray holding a large, two-tiered cake slathered sloppily with white icing. It was with obvious pride that she sat this down and motioned for you to come forward. You did so with the sudden and full return of your anxiety. Oh, God. Finding out what you were having meant you were really having something! What if you weren’t as ready for this as Tony had made you believe you were? 

“Ready for the big moment?” she asked, handing you a knife. 

“Er…” 

Thankfully it didn’t take long for your sweeping gaze to find Bucky loitering in the crowd. Why he hadn’t come to join you yet, you didn’t know (though you had a pretty good idea). As soon as he spotted the fear on your face, he peeled himself away and walked up to you. Sam wolf-whistled as Bucky slid into his proper place at your side. Several of the others took up clapping at his signal. 

“You want to do the honors?” Bucky murmured in your ear. 

You hesitated, then shoved the knife handle into his metal hand. “You do it.” 

Either he didn’t want to argue with you in front of the majority of his coworkers or he was willing enough to do the deed. He took the knife in that hand and your hand in his other. Without another word, he cut into the cake. You held your breath as he pulled a single slice away and… 

…a mess of pink _and_ blue M&Ms spilled from a cavity in the cake’s center. 

“What the—” he said. 

But you already knew. It didn’t take the rest of team erupting into excited applause and congratulations for you to figure things out, nor did it take Sharon’s gleeful cry of: 

“You’re having twins!” 

That time _you_ remained standing up. Too bad you couldn’t say the same of Bucky’s slice of cake.


	7. Picking Names

Finding out you had not one baby but _two_ growing inside you went a long way in explaining why you felt as horrible as you did in the following months. Your extreme morning sickness faded in time, only to be replaced by symptoms you considered—despite all insistence previously—to be much worse. The sharp leg cramps weren’t too bad…at first. By month eight, they were agonizing. All you wanted to do nearly all the time was sleep, but the pain always woke you up. Even that might have been tolerable, however, _if_ you weren’t gaining weight on top of everything else. At least if you had had morning sickness, you wouldn’t have been so hungry all the damn time. 

You felt like a blimp, truth be told, a feeling only exacerbated by your bellybutton popping out. If only you could have slept and forgotten how you looked! Instead, you remained trapped in a cycle of pain and exhaustion that by then you worried wasn’t _really_ going to end in a month’s time. 

“Just kill me,” you moaned against the couch pillow. “I don’t want to live anymore.” 

“Sorry. No can do.” 

It cost you some energy, but you managed to lift your head high enough to shoot Tony a glare. Bucky, Steve, and Sam were painting the nursery upstairs, and had sent you away over concerns over fumes. You had come to the common area to try napping, but Tony was busy in the kitchen and just wouldn’t _leave_. If he insisted on babysitting you, the _least_ he could have done was try to humor you at the same time. 

“Why not?” you asked. 

“Again, I’m not looking into provoking your husband into putting a complete kibosh on the Stark line. He’s got Wilson and Rogers to back him up, too. Can you imagine the obituary? ‘Killed by three honored vets.’ No one would attend my funeral.” 

“What about time travel? Send me back to warn myself not to get pregnant.” 

“Theoretically impossible. Not to mention rife with possibilities to ruin our present.” 

“Remind me again what use it is, being your friend?” 

“I will concede that most of the benefits are wasted on a married woman,” he said with a smile. 

Huffing, you laid back down to stare blearily at the wide-screen television affixed to the opposite wall. Tears obscured the images moving across it. When you tried to blink them away, your eyelids got stuck in place. The voices and Tony’s presence seemed to fade away. Maybe you could get some sleep after all… 

“[Name]. Hey, come on [Name]. Wake up.” 

“She’s not moving.” 

“[Name].” 

“You want me to get my Hulk prod?” 

“I swear to God, Tony, if you try tazing my wife—” 

“You got a better idea?” 

“Try leaving her there? She probably needs the rest.” 

“She can’t sleep on the couch for the rest of the night, Sam.” 

It didn’t feel as though you had slept long at all when a cacophony of voices interrupted your nap. Try as you might have to ignore them, they just wouldn’t _stop talking_. You opened your eyes with a sharp exhalation of breath to find Tony, Bucky, Sam, and Steve all standing crowded around your sofa. 

“We thought you finally might have died,” Tony explained. 

“If she had died on your watch,” Bucky began, but Tony interrupted him with: 

“Your level of faith in me continues to astound me, Barnes.” 

“I’m not going to die in my sleep,” you said testily as you pushed yourself clumsily into a seated position. “Especially when you all won’t let me _stay_ asleep. I thought you guys were working on the nursery.” 

“We finished. Having two super soldiers on the job makes painting easy work,” said Sam. 

“Sam did most of the hard stuff,” Steve put in. “Then we came down to eat and found you passed out here. Buck nearly had a heart attack.” 

“You look fine to me. Let’s get cooking. I’m starving.” 

“You’re the only one speaking my language, Wilson,” Tony said, and the two of them disappeared from view. Steve lingered only a little longer to smirk at the embarrassed color on Bucky’s face. Then he, too, wandered off to “help” the other two in the kitchen. 

“Did you really think I was dead?” you asked your husband. 

His color deepened. “Of course not.” 

“ _Really_?” 

“I was only _worried_. You haven’t been out that hard in weeks.” 

“You big old worrywart.” His typical retort about not being old was cut short by your suddenly lifting your ups to him. “Hold me?” 

“I can’t.” 

And here he’d been giving you a serious case of the warm fuzzies—or heartburn. Hard to tell through all the other pregnancy symptoms sometimes. You dropped your arms and scowled. “Yes, you can. We’ve been over this. I’m not all fragile like Steve was before he got his muscle juice. You aren’t going to hurt me.” 

Someone in the kitchen—Steve, probably—snorted while Bucky shook his head. 

“No, [Name]. I literally _can’t_ hold you. Your force field’s been up since we found you here.” 

“Oh. That explains the Hulk Prod.” 

This was yet another “fun” pregnancy symptom: your powers were all out of whack. Luckily there wasn’t much of anything trying to attack you in your day-to-day life in the tower (Steve having officially benched you ages ago), so you weren’t constantly flinging people and objects across various rooms. Your protective bubble, however, kept popping whenever it damn well pleased. Since it had never been linked to your mood before, Bruce theorized that your hormones were messing things up. There was nothing to stop it until the twins were born. You struggled to shove the field away for a moment before lifting your arms up to Bucky for a second time. 

“There. _Now_ will you hold me?” 

“If you insist." 

He sat down next to you, carefully shifting you around until you reclined across his lap. It wasn’t long after that that you’d looped your arms around his neck. Thank God he had super soldier thighs, otherwise he’d probably have needed to look into a pair of mechanical legs after you finished cuddling with him, too. Having his wife replaced with a fleshy whale must have been hard on him, but he hadn't said a single thing about your weight the entire time. 

“You know he’s just going along with that to get out of cooking, right?” Sam asked. 

“I don’t care,” you announced, and kissed Bucky full on the mouth. Never one to shy away from public displays of affection, he kissed you right back. It might have been a nice little moment. _Might_ have been. If Tony hadn’t broke in with: 

“Get a room, would you?” 

“ _You_ get a room,” you said. 

“The entire tower is my room. Seeing Barnes kiss someone is one step away from watching _Steve_ kiss someone. You really want to put me off my dinner?” 

“Hilarious,” said Steve. 

“Spoil sport,” you muttered, but the moment was over. Wasn’t like you could do much more to Bucky given your present condition anyway. It was just nice to know your husband wasn’t entirely disgusted by your appearance every once and awhile. 

As if he could read your mind, Bucky moved his hands down to your enormous belly. “How are they?” he asked. 

“Busy. They kick more and more every day. Not too sure they’re going to get along once they’re out here.” 

“We’ll have to fix that, won’t we? We’ll ground them for a week after they’re born.” He kissed you again, this time on the tip of your noise. 

“Isn’t it about time we give them names? This ‘them’ and ‘they’ business is too much.” 

“I already told you, we’ve got their names.” 

“And I already told _you_ we aren’t naming our daughter Sarah until you’ve cleared it with Steve.” 

Bucky didn’t take his eyes off of you, just lifted his voice to say, “Hey, Steve!” 

“Yeah?” 

“[Name] and I are naming our daughter after your ma!” 

“Wha—” 

“Steve says it’s fine.” 

You couldn’t entirely stifle your laugh. “He did _not_.” 

“It’s fine, [Name].  Mom would have liked that,” Steve said. He sounded amused as well. 

“And the boy’s Beck, after my sister,” said Bucky, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. “Sarah and Beck.” 

“Sarah and Beck,” you repeated. 

This must have been encouragement enough to confirm the matter for Bucky. He grinned, leaned toward your massive stomach, and said, “Hey. Sarah. Beck. Stop fighting. Your parents don’t approve.” 

In reply—or retaliation—one of them kicked. Bucky’s grin grew wider still. 

“Told you they were busy,” you said. 

He laughed, kissing you once more. It was the best evening you’d spent in weeks. Even Bucky seemed happier and more optimistic that night. Being an Avenger always seems to complicate your personal life, but just then you felt that it just might make having kids even better than having them as a normal person would have.  


	8. Welcome to the World

If being pregnant with the universe’s most active twins was painful, _giving birth_ to those twins was downright excruciating. Thirteen hours of labor was no joke. By the time your second baby—your daughter—finally, _finally_ entered the world, Bucky had had to switch to holding your hand with his metal one so you wouldn’t break his fingers squeezing them so hard. The pain wasn’t over yet, unfortunately, as there remained further contractions to look forward to, as well as the expulsion of your placenta. He took it in stride, and leaned over to gently wipe your sweaty brow. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly. 

You did your best to glare at him, but felt the effect of such a gesture was somewhat lessened by the amount of fluids he’d seen you shoot out of every orifice on your body that day. “If I had to choose between doing this again or having a second round with Blonski, I’d pick Blonski every time,” you answered. 

Bucky chuckled, then brushed his lips against your cheek. This was very brave of him, considering that you’d never smelled worse in your entire life. A small woman with dark hair and vividly purple scrubs—the labor and delivery nurse—stepped over before you could remind your husband of how disgusting you were. 

“Would you like to hold your son? We’ve got him cleaned up now,” she said. 

All of the cramps and smells and feelings were forgotten in that moment. You let go of Bucky’s hand—you saw him flex the silver fingers theatrically out of the corner of your eye—and reached for the little bundle of blue in the nurse’s arms. She smiled as she carefully passed the baby over. His tiny pink face scrunched up as his blue eyes fluttered unfocusedly across your face. 

“Hey, Beck,” you murmured. 

Bucky, however, was staring at the woman with a great intensity. Her smile slowly faded until he said, “Do I know you?” 

“I don’t believe so, sir,” she said. 

He didn’t look entirely convinced. Her expression twisted further into one of fright. Before you could give Bucky a gentle reminder that his resting face could be quite intimidating to people that didn’t know him, Beck’s squirming seemed to catch his attention. At last, Bucky looked away and into the face of his son. 

“Heya, Sport,” he whispered. 

“The doctor says he looks healthy,” the nurse chimed in. Already she looked relieved. “We’ll take them both back for a proper checkup here in a minute, after you’ve seen your daughter.” 

Bucky looked up at her at once. “How is she?” 

“Fine. We think.” 

“You _think_?” 

“You’ll see soon. I’ll be right back with her.” 

She didn’t have far to go. The room was not large, and you and Bucky had decided not to invite any friends or family to observe your labor. All that was left outside of your nurse was the doctor and a researcher on Enhanced Medical Theory. Your daughter’s livid wailing rose above whatever conversation the two of them were having. Bucky’s hand on your shoulder (and your lack of panties) prevented you from going to check on her yourself. Though you tried to keep your attention on cooing to your newly-born son, you kept looking up to check on his sister, too. 

The nurse finally came back after what seemed like ages. “It’s a little more difficult to take her readings,” she explained, passing the second bundle—this one pink—into Bucky’s arms. 

He frowned with obvious concern. This expression did not fade as he gingerly pulled the blanket away from the baby’s face. Then he gasped. 

“What? What’s wrong with her?” you asked around your seizing heart. 

To your vast surprise, Bucky laughed, shook his head, and crouched so that you could see your daughter. You, too, gasped. 

“I think we know which one of them was causing all that commotion in the womb,” he said. 

Sarah continued to scream, her little eyes scrunched up into angry slits. You could not tell what color they were—but that was because they were not _a_ color. They—along with her skin and the fine hair stuck to her soft little skull—were solid charcoal black. They did not stay that way for long. As you watched, the hair turned straw yellow; her eyes faded to white, then to red, then to green, all while her skin flicked swiftly through all the colors of the rainbow. 

“That’s definitely not normal,” you observed. 

“No,” said the nurse. “Like I said, the doctor and the specialist both think she’s fine, based on newborn behavior, but we can’t get a read on anything because her heart rate and internal temperature keeps changing, too.” 

“One surprise after another, these two,” said Bucky. 

“Tell me about it. What about Beck? Is he…doing anything strange?” you asked. 

“Not that we can tell. But Enhanced newborns are still a rarity. He might have a passive ability, or he might grow into something later. Or maybe he’s completely normal. There’s no way to know right away,” the nurse replied. 

“I guess it’s a good thing Stark and Bruce added those safety features to the nursery,” Bucky said. “We weren’t expecting babies with superpowers.” 

Privately, you felt you ought to have. Two Enhanced parents—one naturally so, the other not so much—was a potent combination. It was only that the few files Tony finished working indicated the babies Bucky had fathered during his captivity had all been born completely normal that had you so convinced before. HYDRA hadn’t had access to Enhanced woman back then, though, so maybe this made sense… 

You were snapped back to the hospital room by a pair of hands reaching for Beck. Instinct took over. Your force field shot right up after having been mentally crushed down for the entire duration of your birthing. But those hands belonged to the nurse, and she calmly lifted them to indicate she meant no harm. 

“We’re just going to take them back for a little bit so you can rest. Get the placenta out, wash up, maybe take a quick nap. They can come right back after.” 

Though you hesitated, you could see no reason to do so. You _did_ want a wash, and to get your remaining contractions to calm the hell down. You nodded, slowly lowering the force field until you could pass your baby boy back to her. 

Beck erupted into cries even louder than his sister the second he was in the nurse’s arms. Bucky started. You reached for Beck again, but the nurse stepped away from you with a light laugh. 

“A mama’s boy already, I see. Don’t worry, you’ll be back with Mom soon. Do you want us to bring them both back for meals?” she asked you. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Will do. Want to come with me, Dad? See the nursery?” 

Bucky looked to you for permission. You nodded. Beck was just a baby; crying was natural, but you would feel a lot better knowing someone you knew was with your son. Still holding Sarah with both hands, Bucky bent to kiss you again before following the nurse out of the room. 

As soon as he was gone, you collapsed back onto your pillow, utterly exhausted. You’d like to have said then—even with the placenta removal looming on the horizon—that the hard part was over. Two babies like Beck and Sarah indicated that the hard part was really only just beginning.


	9. Hold My Hand

It wasn’t long after that the reality of being new parents set in. Going home to Avengers Tower wasn’t necessary, even. A couple of days after giving birth, you remained at the hospital. Not only did the staff there want to make absolutely sure that your abilities wouldn’t cause complications down the road, but a conveniently-timed alien attack made it much safer to stay put than attempt to lug yourself and two babies all the way across Manhattan. 

The twins remained in the nursery a lot of the time. Though they showed no apparent signs of deterioration, everyone involved want a close eye kept on them for the time being. They were bused to your room for visits and feedings. What little time you got to spend with your babies led to a _lot_ of naps when they weren’t around. You awoke from one such dozing period to a hazy afternoon sun beaming weakly through the shades across the window. Nothing inside the room stirred. Sarah and Beck were away again; only Bucky remained, out cold on the cot he’d been provided with to sleep on. 

He needed the rest as badly as you did. The habit of sleeping while you breastfed had not yet begun. After last night’s many interruptions, it was no wonder that he was snoring so loudly. You were in desperate need of water, however, and the pitcher on your bedside table was empty. Before you could see about waking him up to find you refreshment, someone knocked on the door. It opened a moment later to allow Sharon to pop her head inside. She stepped into the room as soon as she saw that your eyes were open. 

“Hey, Mom. How’s it going?” she said in a stage whisper. Steve followed her to your bed. A bouquet of balloons was clutched in his hand. This he deposited next to the little collection of cards that had managed to find their way to you despite the general chaos going on in the streets. 

“Finally found yourself a break in the fight, did you?” you asked him. 

“Bucky’s been complaining about me not showing up, hasn’t he?” he said. 

“Only when he’s awake. Which admittedly isn’t very often.” 

“How are you feeling?” Sharon asked. 

“Better than the last time you saw me. Thinner, too.” 

“Has anyone else stopped by yet?” 

“Tony and Bruce came around yesterday and saw the twins. Sam’s called a couple of times to check in as well.” 

“Which I notice _you_ didn’t bother to do, Rogers,” said a grumpy voice from across the room. You looked over to see Bucky sitting up on his cot, rubbing his metal fist into an eye. “If you didn’t show up today, I was gonna have to make Sam their godfather instead.” 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” said Sharon. 

“But I did,” said Steve. 

Bucky snorted, stood, stretched, and walked over to join your two guests next to you. “You guys put a stop to that Kree invasion yet?” 

“I had to call in a couple of favors to get replacements for you two, but we managed in the end.” 

“I’m impressed. You finished a fight without getting your face broken for once.” 

“Makes me think I should keep the new guys and fire you.” 

“Go ahead. Give someone else the headache of making sure you don’t get yourself killed. No skin off my nose.” 

Sharon interrupted by clearing her throat. This normally would have had little effect. Perhaps both men were trying to be on their best behavior now, because they fell silent immediately. 

“How are the babies?” she asked. “Healthy, right?” 

You and Bucky caught each other’s eye, then said in practiced unison, “As far as we can tell.” 

Her eyes flicked rapidly between your face and his. “You don’t know if your kids are healthy or not?” 

“They’re Enhanced. Well, Sarah is,” you explained. 

“What about Beck?” asked Steve. 

“He—” 

For the second time that day, you were interrupted by the opening of the door. A nurse appeared in the space instead this time. She was tall, blonde, and holding a blanket-wrapped lump you recognized as one of your children in her arms. 

“This little one woke up hungry and wanted to see her mommy,” she said as she moved smoothly over to the cluster of people gathered inside the room. 

“Oh! Is this Sarah?” Sharon peered down into the baby’s face before the nurse could pass her to you. Once you had nodded your approval, the nurse handed Sharon Sarah instead. “Aren’t you beautiful? Isn’t she beautiful, Steve?” 

“She looks just like my mom.” 

“She better not,” Bucky said. 

Sharon rolled her eyes. “I highly doubt your mother had bright purple hair.” 

“There’s no way of knowing for sure,” Steve argued. 

“I’m _pretty_ sure there is.” 

“She’s calmed down a little bit since she was first born,” you said. “She was changing colors every half a second. Now it’s about, what, thirty minutes?” 

Bucky nodded. “About.” 

Steve and Sharon weren’t really listening. They were far too busy cooing over Sarah—who, you suspected, wouldn’t wait quietly much longer to be fed. You turned to the nurse before the screaming could begin. “What about her brother? Wasn’t he hungry, too?” 

“Oh, I’m sure he can wait. He only just ate,” she answered cheerfully. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky slowly stiffen. This mirrored the dread that crept into your own bloodstream. You struggled to keep your voice level when you spoke again: “Are you sure? I haven’t seen him since this morning.” Surely she was going to realize that she was thinking of another baby. Yours wasn’t missing. Some sixth sense would have told you if something had happened to Beck. That was what happened when you became a mother. Right? 

But the nurse’s smile faltered at your question. “He woke up about an hour ago. Madeline said she was bringing him here.” 

Before you could say anything more, before you could react at all around the sudden roaring in your ears, Bucky had stepped up to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Where is she?” he demanded. 

“I-I don’t know!” 

“Does she even _work_ here?” 

“She—she just started last month! I don’t know Madeline that well. Please! You’re hurting me!” 

“Bucky.” Either the serious tone Steve’s voice took or his hand on Bucky’s flesh arm caused Bucky to freeze. He did not blink for the minute or so it took him to release the nurse. Then Steve spoke to her: 

“Can you put out a hospital-wide alert on a missing baby?” 

“Y-yes, sir.” 

“Good. Can you also inform the police?” 

“Yes. Of course.” 

“Do it.” 

With tears sparkling in her enormous blue eyes, she swiftly exited the room. Only once she was gone did Steve gently force Bucky to face him. 

“Listen to me, Bucky. We’re going to fix this,” he said, “but first, you need to tell me what it is you suspect is happening here.” 

Bucky shook his head as though in a daze. 

“Bucky. Please,” you said. 

The sound of your voice seemed to pull him from his stupor. “R…Red Room,” he managed to choke out. His face twisted into a scowl. “I _knew_ I recognized her when we met her! But I was looking for _HYDRA_ agents, not people from Red Room. I wasn’t there long—just long enough to train Natasha. They weren’t ever involved in the breeding program—unless—” 

“If it was Red Room, why would they take Beck instead of Sarah? He doesn’t even have Enhancements that you’re aware of,” Sharon put in. 

Bucky combed his flesh fingers through his hair. “I-I don’t know. Maybe Sarah looked enough like him at the time that they got confused, couldn’t double check or didn’t know how. Steve, if they wanted Sarah instead of Beck, they will kill him without a second thought.” 

All this you took in with your brain screaming wordlessly. Your _baby_. Your baby was _missing_ and all you could was stare! Sarah was fussing in Sharon’s grip and who knew what Beck was doing in that fake nurse’s? Seeing your husband so rattled by this development did absolutely nothing to soothe your fears. 

“We won’t let that happen,” Steve said firmly. “I’m going to do a perimeter sweep right now. An hour’s a long time to get ahead of us, but there’s a chance she’s hiding in plain sight.” 

“What can I do?” Sharon asked. 

“Call the Tower. Get everyone out and looking. See if JARVIS can get into cameras around the city so we can track her movements. If Scott and Hope are still in town, I want them here, too. Now. Priority alert.” 

“Got it.” 

You had your feet on the tile floor by the time Sharon handed you Sarah. “What—” 

“Stay with her. We’ll handle this. They aren’t going to get away with him, [Name].” 

It only took one look at Sarah’s face for you to swallow your protest and lay back down. Your daughter gazed up at you, no longer crying like a hungry newborn ought to have been, but solemnly, like she knew something had gone terribly wrong, too. Could she sense the danger her brother was in? Or were you projecting your feelings of worry onto a baby that just wanted food? 

“[Name].” 

While you had been staring at your daughter, Steve and Sharon had disappeared. Only you, Sarah, and Bucky remained in the hospital room. Your eyes met his. He didn’t have to voice his question. If only you hadn’t had to voice your answer. Maybe then he wouldn’t have known how close you were to falling apart. The rasp in your voice made it all too clear when you said: 

“Go. Find our son.” 

He ran off without another word. You didn’t even see him go; your tears obscured your vision too badly. Sarah gurgled as they splashed against her face. The noise broke a guttural sob out of your throat. Clutching her to your chest, you cried along with her. 

“Code PINK,” came a voice from the speaker above your head. “Repeat: Code PINK.” 

A violent upheaval of confused movement and shocked voices drifted toward you through the closed door. They did not stop your bawling, or your terror. Sarah remained warm and alive in your arms, yes, and you wouldn’t let anyone pry her out of them no matter who might have come in to comfort you. But no one did. The minutes ticked by. 

No one came to hold your hand.


End file.
